Passions in the North Country (Siren Publishing Classic) (21 page)

“The inn, as you know, has undergone a tremendous transformation. I think you’ll all agree that Mr. North has done a wonderful job.”

“Yes, yes,” they agreed.

“Unfortunately, he hasn’t yet been able to distance himself from previous owners and let people know about the new attitude.”

“What can we do?” one of the ladies asked.

“Well,” said Jenny, “I noticed that you have a monthly column in the local newspaper and I was wondering if you could write an article about the inn.”

“Certainly,” remarked Mrs. Harris, “and I think we may even be able to go one better.”

“How?” Jenny asked politely.

“We have a lot of furniture from the inn, you know.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Oh heavens, yes. Previous owners shut up a lot of the rooms and gave some of the old furniture to us. Unfortunately, we never did know what to do with it. Luckily, the library let us store our things in the basement, but lately they’ve wanted to open it up as a reading room. So we’ve got a lot of furniture and nowhere to put it. I think we would all agree that the best place for it is the North Country Inn.”

The ladies nodded in agreement.

Jenny was greatly pleased. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. We’ve been waiting a long time for an owner like Mr. North. He’s worked hard and it’s obvious he truly cares about the inn. With a man like that at the helm, we’d love to help out whenever we can.”

“That’s wonderful!” Jenny exclaimed. “I don’t mean to rush you,” she added with a playful smile, “but when can we pick it up?”

“Pick it up anytime now,” Mrs. Harris said. “My sister Eileen runs the library and if you give her or me a little notice, we’ll open the basement whenever you want.”

Jenny thanked Mrs. Harris and her friends for their kindness, talked to them for thirty minutes longer, then walked back to the inn, enjoying the last rays of the sun before dusk. She couldn’t wait to see Devon’s face when she told him about the historical society’s plans to donate the furniture.

As she approached the inn, she glanced up at her room in the Captain’s House and thought she saw a man moving by the window. That surprised her. She knew Devon had a key to the Captain’s room and could pass unimpeded into Maria’s room, but she didn’t think he would do that without her permission. Only then did she notice his truck was not in the yard. Walking around to the front of the Captain’s House, she saw that both doors were locked.

“That’s odd,” she said. “If Devon went in, why would he lock the door from the inside?” Jenny took out her keys and opened Maria’s door. She slowly walked to the bottom of the steps. “Devon!” she called out.

No answer.

“Devon!” she shouted, taking a couple more steps. “Are you up there?”

No answer.

Jenny quietly and carefully walked to the top of the stairs, took out another key, and unlocked her room. She put her hand on the doorknob, hesitated for a moment, then twisted it. Tentatively she opened the door and stepped into her room. It was almost dark, but she could clearly see everything. She called out, asking if anyone was there, but no answer was forthcoming. Jenny turned on her light, looked under her bed, then inspected every nook and cranny of the room. There was no one. She opened the Captain’s door, turned on his light, and inspected that room. Again, nothing. She searched the entire house, but there was no sign of life. She checked all the windows and they were locked. Without question there was no one but her in the Captain’s House. The man, like the naked woman she saw that first day, must have been a vision. Shrugging, she was about to leave the Captain’s room when she noticed a pipe on the bureau. It had not been there before. Jenny picked it up and smelled freshly burned tobacco. That amazed her, and when she inspected the pipe, she was further amazed to see the name of Captain Williams inscribed on it.

“This is too weird,” she said, laying it down. Suddenly she looked about the room. “Captain Williams!” she called out. “Is your spirit here?” She waited several seconds. “Maria!” she said loudly. “Is your spirit here?”

No answer.

“Hello!” she called quite loudly. “Are you here? Do you want to tell me something?”

Again, no answer.

Jenny left the Captain’s house, making sure the doors were locked behind her. She walked into the inn and found Mr. Taylor waiting in the office.

“I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” he said, standing up.

“Not at all,” Jenny answered sweetly.

“I came to see Mr. North, but apparently he went to his house down river and since he has no phone, I couldn’t call. My wife and I are attending a special function this evening, so I can’t go down and see him personally.”

“Well, I’m glad you caught me then.”

“Yes,” he said, thoroughly charmed by her warm manner. “I contacted my superiors this afternoon and discussed matters of concern to Mr. North. I have some documents here and I need him to read them as soon as possible. I don’t know if it’s asking too much, but if you are seeing him tonight, could you give these to him and tell him to call me as soon as possible?”

“I can do that,” Jenny answered, intent on keeping Mr. Taylor as happy as possible.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, I don’t mind,” she said, accepting the envelope. “I don’t have anything else planned tonight.”

“Thank you. I wouldn’t have inconvenienced you except that I promised Mrs. Taylor. You understand, don’t you?”

“I understand,” Jenny acknowledged. “Now you two crazy kids go ahead and have a good time.”

He laughed.

“I’ll give the papers to Mr. North,” Jenny assured him, “and have him get back to you as quickly as possible.”

“Many thanks.” He smiled. “They’ve approved my suggestions.”

“You are a very smart man, Mr. Taylor,” she said in her Greta Garbo voice.

He beamed at Jenny’s praise, then drove off to pick up his wife.

Jenny realized she had to drive to the secluded location where Devon lived and, under cover of darkness, meet with him. What would happen, she didn’t know, but she had a premonition it would be interesting. At the very least, visiting him in the relaxed atmosphere of his home would allow her to see him as she had never seen him before. Up until now it was all business and everything revolved around the physical structure of the inn, but this was different.

By the time she started driving, it was almost pitch dark. By the time she reached her destination down river from Newbridge, it was dark, save for a full moon and a sky full of brilliant stars. The house Devon rented was located at the end of a winding road, over a short causeway and at the back of a small island. Unfortunately for Jenny, Devon so valued his privacy that he had put up a chain to prevent cars from entering. That left a walk of some four hundred paces. In the dark. Alone. But Jenny could see lights from the house through the trees, and from a certain angle even a few Chinese lanterns near a wharf.

She decided to go for it.

The walk was fabulous, the pristine silence broken only by the lapping of waves on the shore and the haunting call of a loon on the river. It was magical, fantastical, surrealistic. What made it even more intriguing was that with each step she drew closer to that man, that man who did something to her that no man had ever done.

Devon’s house was the only one past the chain and she knew they would be alone. As she neared the old and quaint two-story structure, Jenny could clearly hear soft music from behind the dense wall of trees. Fifty yards from the house she found Devon’s truck.

Feeling a bit like Nancy Drew, thrilled at trying to solve a mystery, that mystery called “man,” Jenny strolled to the front door and lightly knocked. No answer. She knocked louder. Again, no answer. She looked in a window and when she didn’t see Devon, she leisurely walked around back. One song ended and then the sweet sound of Rachmaninoff’s “Vocalise,” one of Jenny’s favorite classical pieces, wafted through the air. She strolled to the riverbank and saw a portable stereo at the top of some old rock steps. From behind thick bushes that totally concealed her presence, she spotted Devon through a gap in the foliage. He was standing chest-deep in the moonlit river, washing his hair. She was about to call out, but she opted instead to watch him for awhile.

Looking at him made her smile. His head was covered in shampoo and he hummed as he rubbed it into his hair. Jenny couldn’t help but think of White Sands Beach and the otter who had lain on his back contentedly scratching his belly. Devon dipped his head underwater, then zealously rubbed his hands through it. He dipped his head again and, satisfied his hair was now clean, cupped his hands, gathered water into them and splashed it on his face. Then he submerged his head and when he lifted it, he spurted water out of his mouth like a statue in a water fountain. It was all Jenny could do not to burst out laughing, but she was so entertained by the show that she did not want it to end.

Finally Devon finished and slowly walked toward the shore. He paused in waist-deep water, grabbed a towel he had left on an overhanging branch, and continued forward. Jenny could see his entire upper body now. She would have turned away except that his form was magnetic and it attracted her eyes with irresistible appeal. Firm and muscular, his body looked like a work of art, like something Michelangelo might have carved. Whenever he moved, muscles twitched. He was thick, bulky, yet incredibly sure and adept on his feet. He looked like a dancer and a weightlifter rolled into one, a man’s man. The sight of him fascinated her and she could no more remove her eyes than the hypnotized can resist a command. She drank him in, swirled him in her mouth, studied every square inch.

Jenny wondered, for the briefest moment, what it would be like to be in the river with him. Would she feel the need to touch him, to have that handsome man hold her in his strong arms? He moved forward again and she prepared to call out that she was here on business. Watching him move toward her had nothing to do with business, however, but everything to do with pleasure, and she hesitated in alerting him to her presence.

Jenny couldn’t help wondering what he would look like in the nude. Then, suddenly, a shock jolted her system. He was naked! Naked as a jaybird. He stood, exposed in the moonlight, but hidden by the geography and visible only to her. With the wharf obscuring him, and the trees on the bank enveloping him, he was standing in a super private sanctuary. But she could clearly see his entire body as he stood knee-deep in the river. Jenny felt guilty at not alerting him, but she could not, and she gazed at the beautiful male form bathed in light. He was so big, so powerful. He was unlike any man she had ever seen, any man she had ever imagined. Pure, raw strength, handsome to a fault, sexy.

He dried his upper body, then his legs. Jenny watched, fascinated, as he slowly slid the soft white material over his thick, long cock. She unconsciously licked her lips and felt a tingle in her clitoris. To her surprise, and delight, as he dried himself, he closed his eyes and started to roll his head back and forth. Instantly Jenny realized he was about to engage in the most private of acts, and she knew she had to leave, had to respect his right to be alone for what he was about to do…but she could not leave. Could not! Her eyes would not let her.

Devon started to stroke himself, completely certain he was alone and unseen, but Jenny watched him with her eyes wide open. Devon moved his hips and moaned, bringing himself to full erection in seconds, a full ten inches of thick cock horn, the huge head swelled and his sack full of heavy cream. Jenny’s heart pounded and she breathed shallowly, but still she could not turn away. Devon tossed the towel aside and held onto an imaginary woman, holding her as if they were dancing. Suddenly they were making love and Jenny felt a tremendous, overpowering sense of guilt. She had to leave, absolutely had to, but she could not.

Devon thrust his hips back and forth, his big, hard cock swinging, slapping his belly and jiggling like some kind of heavy wand. He was now in full heat, blinded by lust for an imaginary lover. It was a brutally frank moment, one in which he was acting out his most private and intimate fantasy to an audience of one, an audience who had never been more absorbed in a performance. Devon then suddenly started breathing hard and wrapped his right hand around his huge cock and started to pull. Jenny unconsciously held her hand to her lips, but her eyes never blinked. Devon thrust his hips forward like a piston, as if he was now making love to a woman from behind. Jenny rubbed her legs together, her panties dampening.

“Yes, Jenny!” he suddenly said with a moan, fantasizing about her. “You are so beautiful!”

Jenny was flabbergasted to see him full into his sin, but even more shocked that in his fantasy it was her who was receiving his attentions. He pulled his thick pole really fast, his heavy balls bouncing, and his whole body energy concentrated in his core. He mumbled her name again, stiffened, then released a huge stream of man cream high into the air. His whole body convulsed and rocked, and another stream of seed flung into the air and landed on the river. Then another, and another. Jenny could hardly breathe and not for one second did her eyes leave the scorching pillar as it erupted its hot, thick lava. The orgasm lasted a lot longer than she could have imagined, spurt after spurt of sperm flying off into the night air. For a long time he still shook and trembled, continuing to stroke his cock, slaying the dragon between his legs. Even after more than a minute, hardly able to draw a full breath, he was still quivering and moaning, and lightly stroking his cock. Jenny watched without turning away, her eyes half-closed.

That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, she thought, feeling weak herself.

Devon continued to lightly squeeze his cock, but slowly now. Finally he let go of his warm pole and it fell free, hanging heavily, but still twitching, heavy drops of cream forming and dripping onto the water. Jenny wanted to reach out and touch him, to gently slide her fingers over his spent penis, massaging him just below the head, on the underside. She just wanted to hold it, to feel its girth, its heat.